Golden Boy
by 26Bentley
Summary: Fandom: VC. Pairing: L/L. Takes place after MtD, when Le was comatose. Mild slash.


**A/N**: The lyrics belong to Natalie Merchant. From songs _The Living_ and _Golden Boy_ respectively. :)

* * *

_What's it like there, outside__  
__With the living__  
__With the living__  
__In a fallen down place I can hide__  
__From the living__  
__From the living_

---

_I know my place__  
__Stick to my lines__  
__Stay in your shadow__  
__Don't block your light__  
__So you can shine divine__  
__So you can shine divine__  
__Golden boy_

---

In a meaningless existence joy is found only through the utmost effort.  
I wonder what it is you see. Is your head filled with fantastical visions of heaven, and of hell – so completely claiming and overwhelming the brain that you cannot be with us? Or perhaps it is the empty nothingness which spreads, merciless and suffocating, over the insides of your lids and reduces you to what I see before me. What we all see, every day, when we come here.

_The fingers of one hand glide through soft hair, combing out the tangles and the dust and the dirt. Cold locks, like waves of gold, without body heat in a cool room. Gently the fingertips stroke the contours of the head, lifting a lock back into place. The waker sighs, shifting a little. His own hair falls into his face, sneaking out of the elastic band holding it back and rustling over his shoulder. He has been sitting here every day for two weeks, and not done much to look presentable. It's not important. Hardly anybody still comes by anyway. His breath seems loud in the big empty church room, and he shivers just barely, pulling his jumper tighter around himself with one hand, the other still touching sun-coloured hair. For a moment he looks around as though somebody was there, but there is no-one. Only the large cross, like a dark towering shadow over them both. And all the saints, watching, silent as the grave_.

I know that Armand mentioned something once about emptiness. It was you who took the quote down for the world, I can't quite remember it. But he said he feared that it was only emptiness which awaited us after death, emptiness in all directions and for all time, like a nightmare from which one cannot wake. Conscious and alone in one's torment. Is that what plagues you now? I can try to understand, but without a single sign of life there is nothing I can do. My constant wish is for you to say something, confide in me – or in any one of us. I am long past worrying that you should trust somebody else more than me. It bothered me in the beginning. But now all I want is that you wake and tell us what is wrong. So that I can try to ease your suffering.

_After a little while he takes out a handkerchief, white as innocence and soft as rabbit fur. Slowly, carefully, as though millions depended on his gentleness, he begins trailing the almost liquid fabric over passive features, along the same contours as so many times before. His brow wrinkles slightly, the looks which follow the handkerchief are saddened, as those of an old man taking care of his no longer conscious wife. It takes time, but this is not an action that can be done in any other way. Love takes the sting from the humiliation of the dust, which has settled everywhere – even on the eyes.__  
__Gently, as if it were the greatest treasure in the world, he lifts a pliant hand, giving it the same attention, letting the light fabric sweep over slim fingers. Before laying it back down, he leaves a small kiss at the knuckles. The other hand follows, this one turned palm up. And then finally the clothing. Getting the dust off velvet takes eternities. But there is no shortage of time_.

While we're on the topic of the others – they've gone, all of them. Only me and David still remain here now. but he keeps a certain distance between us, and always takes great care not to get in my way. I think he is a little unsure as to where he's got me, now that you are no longer there to dominate our lives. I must admit that suits me perfectly. I wouldn't want it any other way. He is good company, and always infallibly polite to me… but you are mine, and never doubt it. You can create as many others as you like and do all the mischief that your heart desires, but it's my embrace which you return to. And you had better do it this time as well.


End file.
